


The Rose of England

by Luka



Category: Primeval
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 11:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20044963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luka/pseuds/Luka
Summary: Nick goes all cultured as he tries to work out how to woo the object of his affections.





	The Rose of England

Nick ran his fingers through his hair and stared out of the window. He'd be the first to admit that he didn't have a clue when it came to this courting lark. Aside from some fumbled encounters in the back row of the cinema with local girls when he was in his teens, his romantic liaisons and had begun and ended with Helen.

Not that romantic was a word he'd use for his ex-wife. The first time they'd met in the students' union bar at university, she'd plonked herself down beside him and announced: "I hear you're a bit of a know-all. You won't have it all your own way with me around, though. And how about a shag?" They'd gone back to her room, she'd packed her room-mate off with a snapped "come back in an hour" and then had proceeded to give a virtuoso performance, which had left Nick with scratch marks down his back and ensured that everyone on Helen's floor looked at him with a mix of admiration and consternation thereafter.

He hadn't slept with anyone since Helen had left. At first, he hadn't wanted to as he'd missed her so much. But then, when the extent of her deception had become clear, Nick just wanted to retreat into his study and bury himself in his books and research.

He wondered how the kids wooed each other these days. But one look at Connor's kicked puppy expression as the lad stared at Abby, and Nick decided that some people were as bad as him, regardless of age.

Stephen looked up from his desk and followed Nick's gaze. "Everything OK?"

"Yeah. Stephen, how did you and Ryan, you know …"

Stephen started to laugh and Nick found himself joining in.

"No, I didn't mean that. Who made the first move?"

"Ryan did." Stephen shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "I'm not much good at things like that and if he'd waited for me, we'd still be waiting now…"

"Did he just ask you out on a date outright?"

"Not exactly. He invited me to the pub and then to a rugby match. We went mountain biking a few times as well. I only took the hint when I realised it was just us and not with the lads in tow."

"Oh." Nick scratched his head. That approach wasn't going to work for him.

"Cutter, why are you asking this?"

It was Nick's turn to shrug with embarrassment. Stephen stared at him for a moment or so, then said awkwardly: "Just take it steady. Do things you both enjoy doing. Is she…?"

"Thanks!" Nick knew he was scarlet. "Hell, I'd better go, or I'll miss the meeting. See you later." And he grabbed his papers and made for the door.

~*~*~*

He got the idea when he was in Waitrose, picking up odds and ends for his evening meal. A shelf of classical CDs were on special offer. Nick's hand hovered over them. What he knew about classical music could be condensed onto the back of a postage stamp. Getting it wrong would make him look like a fool. But he was sure he'd heard the name Alfred Brendel before. Before he could change his mind, Nick picked up the CD and added it to his basket.

~*~*~*

Nick was in the ARC just after 7am. He set the coffee machine going and went to drop the CD off. As an after-thought, he attached a post-it to it: 'Thought you might be interested in this.'

He took the coffee back to his office and settled down to analyse some figures that Connor had given him. He was so immersed that he didn't realise at first that there was someone in the doorway.

"You left this for me?" Lester had the CD in his hand, eyebrow quirked questioningly.

Nick nodded, swallowing hard.

"Why?"

"Thought you might like to listen to it."

"I didn't realise you were a classical music fan."

Nick shrugged.

"Thank you. He does play Haydn and Schubert so beautifully. Although I also recommend his interpretation of Arnold Schoenberg's Piano Concerto."

Nick nodded weakly, wondering who on earth Arnold Schoenberg was. 

"Anyway, I shall be very pleased to listen to this. I can let you have it back tomorrow."

"No, it's for you to keep."

The eyebrow quirked again. "I see. Most kind. Thank you, Cutter."

They stared at each other in silence, before the blare of the ADD spared Nick's blushes.

~*~*~*

Nick Googled Alfred Brendel, and frowned. The bloke was still alive, but had given up performing. So that put the kibosh on booking tickets to see him live. He then went to the Royal Festival Hall site. God, where did you start? The only thing he knew was that Lester was hardly likely to be impressed by tickets to see Henry Rollins's spoken word tour. Nick had once seen the bloke live at the Edinburgh Festival, and he was a scary individual with tattoos, and a stare to outrank even Ryan's.

Ah, that looked more like it – a Croatian cellist called Stjepan Hauser who the critics seemed to be raving about. Before he could change his mind, Nick grabbed his credit card and booked two tickets.

~*~*~*

The eyebrow was quirked again – but this time it was the opposite one. Nick never failed to be impressed by how Lester could say so much with one small gesture.

"Tickets to a concert? Why?"

"I thought you'd like to see it. And it's my new year's resolution to get out to more arts events," lied Nick fluently.

"I see. A very worthy one, at that. I wouldn't have had you down as a Stjepan Hauser fan, Cutter."

Nick shrugged. This time the ADD siren remained resolutely silent. And he suspected Lester could stand there all day in silence. "I'm not. But the reviews sounded interesting. And I thought it might be your thing."

"It certainly is my thing, as you call it, Cutter. But why? Anyone would think you were trying to woo me."

Nick could feel the blood rush to his face. 

This time Lester's other eyebrow ascended towards his hairline. "Ah. I see. You could have asked me outright."

"And had you laughing at me? Of course I couldn't!" snapped Nick.

A slight inclination of Lester's head showed that the point had been taken. "I assure you, Cutter, that I would not have laughed. Anyway, thank you for the tickets. I shall be delighted to accompany you, on the understanding that you allow me to treat you to dinner first."

Nick nodded dumbly. Bloody hell, this was all moving too fast.

"Excellent. 6.30pm at the Archduke, then, by Waterloo Station."

Nick nodded again and watched as Lester made his way back to his own office, stopping only to remonstrate with Connor, who was using his skateboard as the preferred mode of travel around the ARC.

~*~*~*

The Archduke turned out to be a wine bar built into railway arches. Nick had arrived early and sat at the bar waiting for Lester to arrive. He'd managed to nip home first and change. But as he saw himself in the mirrored wall behind the bar, he grimaced at the scruffy character with clean but creased clothes and hair on end as ever.

Lester arrived, punctual to the minute, wearing a dark suit and red silk tie. They shook hands rather formally. Behind them, a jazz band started to tune up. Lester rolled his eyes. "Shall we go upstairs before we're treated to another excruciating cover of Baker Street?"

The steaks were adequate, although Nick pushed most of his around his plate. Lester, misinterpreting the gesture, said: "The food's not as good as it was since the restaurant changed hands. But it's very convenient for the South Bank."

"It's fine," said Nick mechanically.

Lester pushed his plate aside and said: "Nick, let me speak frankly. I want to be sure we're not at sixes and sevens with each other or that you've been put up to this by young Mr Temple."

Nick opened his mouth, then closed it again. He couldn't decide whether to laugh, rant or storm out.

Lester smiled thinly. "I can tell by your expression it's not the latter and I'm sorry to have been so blunt. But I don't wish to be played for a fool."

"Not much danger of that."

"You'd be surprised when the heart over-rides the head…"

"Oh. You mean you…"

"Yes, I'd like to get to know you better. I'm assuming that's what you had in mind?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. I'm not what you'd call a good bet when it comes to relationships, though, as my ex-wife will tell you."

"Neither am I," said Nick honestly. "And at least your wife didn't push off to the Permian for eight years."

"There have been plenty of times when I've wished she had…"

They both laughed and the tension seemed to dissipate. Lester signalled for coffee and said: "I'd like to take it slowly. I'm not a great fan of colleagues being in a relationship. And you have to admit that our work relationship is what some might call tempestuous."

"Can't see that changing."

"Neither can I. Now, shall we get going, or we shall be late for the concert."

~*~*~*

"You don't know a damn thing about classical music, do you?" asked Lester, as they climbed into a cab at the end of the evening.

"Not a thing," said Nick frankly. The cello recital had set his teeth on edge, but Lester had murmured several times how impressive the young man was. And eavesdropping on those around them while they had a drink at the interval supported this view. But he'd enjoyed the feeling of being with someone he wanted to get to know much better.

'I suspect I shan't be a fan of whatever you listen to."

"Probably not," agreed Nick, trying to imagine Lester at a Pogues reunion gig.

"No matter. We shall have to find some common ground, then."

The taxi drew up outside Nick's house.

"Are you coming in for coffee?"

Lester raised an eyebrow. "On a first date? What do you take me for? A chap of easy virtue?"

Nick began to laugh. "Your honour's safe with me."

"I'm glad to hear it. Now, thank you for a splendid evening. Do you like theatre?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. My treat for the weekend, then." 

"Thank you. I'll look forward to it." He held out his hand and was surprised when Lester pulled him closer and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Oh, very daring!"

Lester smiled, transforming his whole face. "I wouldn't like you to think I'm playing hard to get. Goodnight, Nick."

"Goodnight, James." He stood, smiling, as the taxi pulled away. In his head he heard a line from a Nick Lowe song whirling around his brain: "Faint heart never won fair hand." No one had ever accused him of having a faint heart. And he was going to have the time of his life winning that fair hand…


End file.
